Hold your breath and count to ten

Its funny how differently we see things. How our perspective changes. How things happen for don't know what reason but then suddenly everything seems to make sense when its just nonsense. It like when we're desperate for an explanation to make us feel better but we know in the end we'd look back and cry ourselves back to where we were.

I killed the feeling. Of longing, of need, of whatever emotional nonsense that seem fit. At least I think I did. Its what we call mocking numbness; how we get up and live life only to come home and cry ourselves to sleep because life's like that and there's nothing we could really do about it.

I miss the hugs. I miss the kisses. I miss the ruffling of hair and the laughter and the phonecalls and the worried looks and the concern. I miss the constant call for coffee and late night TV. I miss running to the door when the footsteps come at 5 and I miss running to the carpark where a great white van would be parked waiting for me. I miss the cologne and I miss the whiff of aftershave and I miss the Polos hung and pressed pants and prepared socks and the shoes at the door. I miss the jokes and the advise and the debates and the love. I miss everything but missing them wont bring anything back and so that's that and that's just it.

Its almost a year now.
I miss my father very much.